


Like That One Section on the SAT

by orphan_account



Series: Established Relationship [6]
Category: due South
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:49:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vecchio and Kowalski have Sunday dinner with Vecchios, then have Sunday other plans with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like That One Section on the SAT

It took a while for Kowalski to learn that it really was okay for him to come to Sunday dinner at Ma’s house. Apparently, when Ray was in Vegas, Kowalski had done that fairly regularly, at first to learn the family and their particular ways, but then because the family, in their particular way, decided that they liked having Kowalski around. When Ray got back from Vegas, Kowalski didn’t come around much anymore, or at all. First because he wasn’t in the country, and then because when he got back, Ray decided he, in his own very particular way, _really _liked having Kowalski around.__

Kowalski was sensitive about that. Ray kept trying to get him to go to Sunday dinner, but Kowalski shook his head. “Uh-uh, no way, forget it,” he said. Ray got that. Kowalski was afraid he’d gone from substitute son/brother/cousin to That Blond Harlot Who Seduced Ray into a Life of Sin. Which was sort of true at first, but as far as Ma was concerned, Ray’s sin in wasn’t that he was living with another man. Ray’s real sin was that he was no longer living with _her _. But it turned out Frannie was beyond competent at doing the household stuff Ray used to do, so Ma relaxed and Ray quietly signed the deed over to his little sister. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t do anything worse with it than he’d done.__

At long last, he finally dragged Kowalski over one Sunday, and Ma fell upon him like he was the prodigal son. Ray had always wondered about that parable. He’d always been firmly in the angry, responsible son’s camp. But now he was the non-prodigal, smiling his head off and blanching string beans (Ma had the fatted calf covered) while Kowalski solemnly questioned cousins (who hadn’t even been conceived when he’d last seen their parents) about playground dust-ups.

“Ya gotta do like this,” Kowalski told one of the cousins, jumping up and into a smooth stance as he raised his hands defensively to protect his face. “Just do as little as you can, just protect your face, then when the nuns come around, they can see that the little punk is clearly whalin’ on _you _and not the other way around.” Kowalski spread his hands out in front of him, the picture of innocence. “See, Sister Anne, I was just defending myself even it was my sister about who mean things were said.” Savannah, the cousin in question, nodded sagely.__

“She doesn’t get Sister Anne for another four years or so,” Ray said.

“Oh, you’re gonna like Sister Anne,” Kowalski said. “She used to date your uncle, back in the mists of ancient time.”

Savannah stared at Ray. “I am not why she became a nun,” Ray exclaimed. He still felt weird about that, even after all this time. 

“I just can’t believe you ever dated anyone but Uncle Ray K,” Savannah said, because apparently she'd made up her mind about the two of them even though she'd never met Kowalski before today. Ray fled to the kitchen muttering, "Out of the mouths of babes," but he didn't move so fast that he didn’t hear Kowalski’s smug, “We all make mistakes in life.” 

He also heard Kowalski add, “Not that it was a mistake. If I coulda dated Sister Anne in high school, I totally woulda been bringing her daisies and stuff. Never settle for anyone who won’t at least bring you daisies.” Ray started thinking about where he could get some daisies, as he was pretty sure he'd never brought Kowalski any, as he snatched a bottle of ranch dressing from Maria before she could douse the whole plate of string beans with it. “Jeez, give the customers a _choice _,” he groused.__

And while they were eating, they started off with good intentions, as Vecchios so often did, quizzing Marc for his SAT prep. But the conversation soon devolved into familial analogies, and suddenly Frannie was saying, “Uncle Ray K is to movement as Uncle Benton is to speech.”

The room went quiet. Which it did whenever “Uncle Benton” came up. Fraser was a rare treat, almost like a visitor from another planet who showed up every couple of years with weird gifts and even weirder stories and advice that was downright bizarre. Every teenaged girl in the Vecchio orbit had, sooner or later, heard about sharp teeth and confidence. Every teenaged girl in the Vecchio orbit had, sooner or later, come to Ray looking completely puzzled. If only he could’ve cleared the whole thing up for them.

Even mentioning “Uncle Benton” had the power to silence the room, even if only momentarily.

“It’s true,” Ma said. “Benton Fraser knows words that haven’t been invented yet. And Uncle Ray K dances like an angel.”

Savannah snorted. “Boxing and dancing are a lot closer than you’d think,” Ray told her, and the conversation moved on.

Ray was quiet on the drive back to their apartment, thinking about what Frannie had said. It was true. Fraser was articulate to the point that no one understood him (which kind of made him inarticulate, in a weird way), while Kowalski sometimes, frequently even, had trouble stringing a sentence together. But Fraser’s physical abilities, while certainly competent, were fairly economical, while Kowalski threw in little flourishes and spins and lunges to everything he did. Ray figured he was somewhere in the middle: better with words than Kowalski, but not as good with his body. And not as good with words as Fraser, but better with his body.

“You okay, there, buddy?” Kowalski asked once they got home. Probably worried that he’d missed something; that the dinner hadn’t gone as well as he’d thought.

“Fine,” Ray reassured him, but distractedly, because by now he was thinking about just how _good _Kowalski was with his body and how he wanted to exploit those skills for his own sexual pleasure over the next hour or so.__

“You’re just moody because they like me better,” Kowalski said, clearly relieved that he’d been so easily accepted as Ray’s boyfriend. Ray let it slide; he really did not want Kowalski to hear about Ma faking a heart attack in order to blackmail her son into staying until he eventually died alone in his old bedroom. Getting from that ugly scene to the point where Ma was okay with Ray’s happiness with Kowalski hadn’t been easy, but Ray had kept Kowalski out of it.

“Just wondering about what Frannie said,” Ray said instead.

“Oh, Brooke will be sitting up on her own by this time next week. That kid isn’t deficient; she’s just taking her time and make sure she gets it right. She’ll be one of those kids who don’t talk ‘til she’s like three and then just up and says something like ‘Please pass the broccoli, as it is very rich in nutrients that I need at this stage in my physical development’.”

Ray shook his head. “No, something else she said. About you and Fraser. The SAT word problem.”

“Oh, that,” Kowalski said. “You think she had something there?”

“Yeah,” Ray said.

“Hmm,” Kowalski thought about it. “Well, I don’t know that my dancing has ever made anyone want to shake me until I stop, unlike, say, oh, any given victim listening to one of Fraser’s caribou stories.”

“There is that,” Ray admitted. “But I was thinking about how I’m kind of between you and Fraser on the scales there.”

“Talk better than me, move better than him?”

“Yeah.”

“Could be,” Kowalski said thoughtfully. “I know one circumstance where you’re physically a total wreck, though,” Kowalski added, and there it was again: the smugness. Justified, since Ray knew exactly what Kowalski was talking about.

Kowalski came up to Ray, standing behind him and pulling him into his arms. “When I fuck you,” he said softy into Ray’s ear, making him shiver, making him moan.

“Not always,” Ray said, his own voice low.

“Not always,” Kowalski agreed. “But when you’re on me, and I’m in you….”

Ray shivered again. It was true. He hardly ever rode Kowalski for just that reason. Once Kowalski’s cock was inside him, he was so full and blissful that he could barely move, overcome by gravity. When he hovered over Kowalski, he was good, but once he’d slid himself onto Kowalski’s cock, that was it, he was an uncoordinated mass of pleasure and Kowalski still ended up doing all the work, clutching at Ray’s hips, sometimes even having to prop Ray up with one strong arm just to keep Ray from completely falling over and off.

“I think I wanna see that now,” Kowalski whispered. “See, I’m always thinking, ‘why don’t I lay back and let Raimundo do the work,’ but it never, ever works out that way. And I am resigned to this fact of life,” Kowalski said, punctuating his words with hip thrusts that stabbed his erection against Ray’s ass. Seemed to Ray that Kowalski was more than resigned. Eager was probably the word he’d use.

“So, c’mon, Raymond,” Kowalski said, pausing to lick at Ray’s ear. “Give me a minute to go in the bedroom and get naked. I wanna stretch out and watch you take off your clothes for me. Enjoy you doing at least _some _of the work before you get my cock inside you and you lose, whatchya call it, basic motor functions.”__

Ray nodded frantically. “Yeah, you do that, I’ll do that, we’ll do that,” he said while he could still conjugate. Stanley nipped at his ear, then moved off to the bedroom, ostentatiously punctuating his walk of pride with spins and bobs and weaves. That was okay. That gave Ray a chance to take a few deep breaths, get his shit together enough that he’d be coordinated enough to give naked, lazy Stan a nice show before Stanley had to do the work for both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, somebody just re-watched "Some Like It Red" over the weekend. Somebody also spent her Friday night working and listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter. Somebody preemptively offers a general "you're welcome" for _not _posting the particular gem that resulted from that nonsense.__


End file.
